


Visser

by Penguin45



Category: Animorphs - Katherine A. Applegate
Genre: Gen, Mind Control
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:08:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27067678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Penguin45/pseuds/Penguin45
Summary: Esplin 9466 was renowned among the Yeerk forces for his ruthlessness, his visciousness, and his dedication to mastering all there was to know about the Andalite Enemy. Fate rewarded him with an Andalite host, one of its kind. Now, thanks to the 'Andalite Bandits', it might yield him a planet. And after that, perhaps the Empire itself. Note: Dark Fic. Character Driven Piece.
Kudos: 4





	Visser

**Chapter 1**

* * *

The Andalite Bandits were the first piece of good news he had had in quite some time. Oh, he had dealt with the Andalite task force easily enough and killed the beast Elfangor but with the size of the fleet involved there was little glory in that for someone already of his rank. A sub-Visser? Perhaps a promotion would have been in the offing from the council, and a significant one at that. But for himself? No, such things were simply expected in course.

But now there was a guerilla movement alive on the planet itself or at least the spawnling of one, and now for the first time a hole appeared in Visser One’s carefully orchestrated plans for a secret invasion of this planet. They should have all been killed last night – even now after all these years the remnants of Alloran came out of the depths to taunt him over last night’s debacle. He twisted, a portion of his true Yeerk self pressed into a tendril finer than a single hair on his host’s back, which then slithered into the hindmost corner of the brain, sending a jolt of pain down his spine and checking Alloran’s mockery.

He had sent word back of course. There was no choice, Visser One’s agents were everywhere. Best to send a report back that admitted to everything he couldn’t hide anyway. Still, not all was lost, not hardly. War was chaos, that was inevitable. Both of him, Esplin 9466 and Alloran-Semitur-Corrass, shared that sentiment down to their very neurons. And in the chaos, the weak and the stupid fell to the wayside, cut down as though by Dracon Beam, and only the smart and ruthless and those bold enough to strike even into the fire survived.

Rage coursed through him in a hot streak. He had been denied chaos for far too long. Visser One had handed him a _Sflorif_ – a dark pool, literally – when he had taken over this assignment. The Council had been clear that Visser One’s plan for a stealthy inception into human society was to stand, and damn her thrice over to the darkest pool of her own, she had seeded with entire invasion force with her own followers and spies; Yeerks he could not remove from power without cause and without a battle no cause was to be had. Instead he had stewed, caught in a web of impotence as the invasion crawled at levels _just_ below what he could accuse his subordinates of deliberate negligence and treason.

He had a few of his own Yeerks now in place at least, his own web to begin the growth of his own spawn here, but Visser One had left deep marks in her stay here. But now… now maybe that was about to change.

 _Andalite Bandits._ It was something that perhaps the rest of the Yeerk Empire might believe. That he had defeated an Andalite force only to allow some of the fighters to make it to the planet surface. But no other Yeerk had an Andalite body, no other Yeerk had put in the time and effort and diligence researching the Andalite foe.

And perhaps most importantly, no other Yeerk had an Andalite brain at their disposal, and a particularly inquisitive brain at that. And one that couldn’t help but share his fury at incompetence in subordinates or treasonous superiors; that of a disgraced War Prince. However much as he might resist, Alloran would advance his cause. He always had. He always would. His own brain betrayed him at every step.

Point the First: No Andalite fighters were unaccounted for at the end of the battle. He had not thought any were missing at the time, but after sending his report of losing sight of the Bandits he had rewatched the recordings again with great interest. The Dome Ship had released forty-four star fighters before the disintegration of its flight bays. Five short of the full complement of forty-nine, but such was the nature of real battle compared to tidy manuals of protocol and doctrine. He felt Alloran sneer at that; he pressed down on the emotions in the frontal lobe, feeding that sense of anger to those who had not done battle yet demanded picture perfect results. Yes, he knew how to push his Andalite to do his bidding.

Forty-two of those forty-four had been destroyed. Thirty-one in the battle itself, at the cost of barely a third of that in bug fighters, he thought with no small amount of satisfaction. Eight more had made for the planet’s surface, but seven of those had been either destroyed or fallen apart in the planet’s atmosphere. One had landed, containing Prince Beast Elfangor, and he had been dealt with personally, in the most literal sense. Eaten by the Visser himself. Three more had self-destructed after their Dome ship had been destroyed, preventing Yeerk capture of either the ships themselves or new Andalite hosts.

That did leave two fighters unaccounted for, but; Point the Second:

There had been at least five so-called Bandits at the Pool last night. One had morphed a giant orange-and-black striped beast. It had been magnificent, he planned on picking up such a morph for himself. There had been an even larger beast, grey with a tail for a nose. There had been a primate, much like the humans themselves only larger and far stronger. There had been the horse, that one he had remembered from the briefing upon arriving on the planet, among those animals most commonly used by the humans. And one had taken an avian form of some kind. That meant that even if two of the bandits were from the missing but presumed destroyed fighters, there were still three bandits that could not be accounted for.

Unless, Point the Third: The Dome itself had been attacked and clearly damaged, but there was no confirmation that it had been destroyed upon impacting the planet’s largest ocean. It was possible that there were anywhere up to a dozen _arisths_ on board a fully loaded Dome Ship. They could have survived, acquire an appropriate aquatic morph and escaped. It was certainly possible. _And yet-_

Point the Fourth: all the Andalite Bandits had morphed animals native to this planet. Why? It might have made sense had they attacked a Yeerk facility hiding among the humans themselves but in the Pool? Would any other Yeerk make the connection? Afterall, even now most battles between Andalites and Yeerks occurred in space, the Andalite morphing ability was as much myth and legend as it was fact. Most did not know that the technology was primarily one for evasion and intelligence gathering than battle itself. And why should it not be this way? An Andalite Warrior would want to be able to hold weapons that had been designed for Andalite physiology (weapons conspicuously missing let it be noted), and his own body was its own weapon. Esplin twitched his own tail instinctively. He fed Alloran a slight pulse of pride.

And perhaps most importantly even beyond biology or technology, an Andalite in battle would wish to die in his own body. And _even_ failing that, he would not go into battle in a morph when doing so would require him to demorph before he could morph into a form necessary for escape or evasion. Morphing was time and energy consuming, and carried significant risk.

But most damningly of all, Point the Fifth: This band of Andalites lost on a foreign world with overwhelming Yeerk superiority and freshly defeated, had not come to the Yeerk Pool for intelligence or to seize weapons or perhaps try to send a signal back to the Andal… no, they had tried to rescue _humans._ Rescue Hosts. Not even Hosts they could assume were bodies to high ranking or valuable Yeerks, just a random assortment of Hosts, by sheer chance dictated most would be little more than grunts. It made no strategic sense unless, conclusion:

The Andalite Bandits weren’t Andalites at all.

He felt confusion coming from his body now, and Esplin waited, feeling the trigger of confusion that kept him completely still, waiting to see how Alloran would react. Ever so gently, he stretched forward, creating a synaptic link to his host’s memories of the before times, pushing to the fore wisps of the humiliations he had endured on the Hork Bajir homeworld. Of another guerilla war that could have gone so differently if one of them, either of them, had been listened to by their respective sides.

The girl had sided with the Hork Bajir over her own people, taking his great weapon that would have ended the Yeerk invasion of the galaxy at this planet. And in doing so had doomed so many more. Would another Andalite do the same, here?

He knew his host well. And while he could admit that Alloran’s mind was greater than his own, he was a master at manipulating it into an extension of his will. Fear bubbled up in Alloran. He tried to suppress it of course, but even the most subtle of tells were enough for Esplin to know that he had a theory, one he wished to hide as best he could, futile though such was.

There was an Andalite who might very well put the humans first. One that had survived the atmosphere of the planet. Had spend seven minutes and forty-two earth seconds on the surface of the planet before being picked up by his own ship. Alloran roared in despair as Esplin read his fears, spread them out around himself and pieced them back together.

Elfangor the Beast, Elfangor the War Hero, Elfangor the confused and naïve and far out of his depth _aristh_. _Somehow_ , he had an _Escrafil Device_. Somehow he had smuggled one on board his ship. Somehow, he had in those seven minutes and forty-two seconds passed on the most advanced technology every produced to a group of humans. It was madness, it was impossible… and yet the evidence suggested it was so, nonetheless. He froze, then cursed inside the brainspace, molding into the contours and venting his frustration so that even Alloran was broken from his calculations and forced to endure Esplin’s anger.

He had been so close to an _Escrafil Device_ and had likely vaporized it in his haste! Oh the bandits would be the least of his concerns had he gotten his hands on such power! Or perhaps… a cautious optimism filled him, perhaps one so willing to break the law and given the power to humans would go a step further and given them the device itself. He paused, probing into Alloran’s thoughts. The host was unsure either way, which was enough for hope to being to spring inside.

He was getting ahead of himself. Conclusions: A group of humans had the ability to morph, and had acquired some of their own Earth species. _Possibly_ , two Andalites had survived and were on the planet, and may or may not be part of these ‘bandits’. And third – glee radiated through him at the thought – he now had a change to the script that Visser One had written for him. No longer would he be forced to play her game, taking over the planet in her name and looking mildly incompetent as he did so much more slowly than anticipated.

He needed to find the bandits. He needed to track them down, and then he needed to steer them to where he wanted them to go. To attack outposts and objectives that would bring disgrace on Yeerks loyal to Visser One. To make it clear to the Council that he was the one having to clean up his incompetent superior’s messes. To kill as many of the current sub-Vissers on this planet as he could and replace them with his own loyal cadre.

Alloran’s mind sped off down this track; thrilled at the chance to kill Yeerks even if at the benefit of Esplin. It was a dangerous path he now sought. To control his own opposition as a weapon against his own. Yet he still had to deliver Earth, but in a way that would make it his own conquest and not Visser One’s. And for that matter, keeping the “Andalite” Bandits alive might be too great a task in itself, if these were not trained warriors but a group of primates using technology their species was certainly centuries away from beginning to understand. They might even reveal themselves tomorrow, and then he would have nothing but a stain on his record compounded by the fact that the tailstroke had come from humans.

One step at a time. One cannot strike with the blade that which one does not first see. One cannot infest the Gedd from the safety of the Poolmud. They had attempted to rescue humans from one specific set of cages. He sent out an order that he was not to be disturbed and opened his private terminus; bringing up the schedule of feedings. There were twenty humans in the cage at the time the bandits had attacked. As fortune would have it, more than a few were Hosts to Yeerks loyal to himself, even if not of particularly high rank or import. He would keep this quiet for now, make it appear to be a sensitive but not particularly important request for more information on all close connections to these particular Hosts.

And then, after he captured the bandits without Visser One being the wiser, the games could truly begin.

* * *

**Chapter 2**

* * *

It took a few days for his first break to come through. First, he had received intelligence reports from anyone he remotely trusted as to the circles of relations within the target area of those Hosts who had possibly been deliberately targeted for rescue. Second, he had begun a much wider list of anyone of possible interest who could be placed at the site of Elfangor’s destruction. The latter list unfortunately was less complete that the former, and he would wait before devoting any serious interest towards it. The first list yielded a rather large list, too large with the resources he could devote in secret to approach in a timely manner. And so he had waited a little while longer, just in case some clue happened, something that might give him a better approach of triangulation than simply stabbing at random, like a spawnling taking his first steps in its first host.

And paid off – _possibly_ – it had. The smaller, domesticated version of the great orange beast – the tiger – the… cat, that was it. The cat was one of the bandits in morph, he was sure of it. He had come so close to berating Iniss 226 right then, seeing the animal inside the communication room, but had held his thoughts at the last minute. He felt despair trickle through Alloran as he did so.

Iniss 226 occupied the body of a human whose primary responsibilities were maintaining order at the educational facility for the humans in an area of roughly twelve square miles around his home. His host’s wife was also a host, and a truly voluntary one in the way Iniss 226’s while somewhat subdued, was not. She was a technician at the primitive human hospital, where another plan was beginning to bear fruit. The daughter was not a Host, and it was her continued freedom that primarily kept Iniss 226’s host in line. Esplin curdled, and his Andalite face scowled, stalk eyes shrinking close to the skull.

So many hours of time lost pretending to be a human. Iniss 226 was the closest Yeerk he had to a lieutenant on the planet that could be trusted not to report back to Visser One… insofar as he would trust anyone on this wretched planet not to betray him. And yet he spent a third of his day administrating children. Another third for mandatory host functions such as sleeping and eating. Yet more time maintaining further appearance. All in all he was fortunate to get more than a dozen hours a week out of Iniss 226.

But perhaps, now something had been accomplished after all. A trap would need to be set, should the Andalite return to the communication room. False intelligence could be provided. He needed to think about that. In the meantime, his computer whirred as new commands were entered. It was not yet clear which Entrance the bandits had entered the Yeerk Pool, but they had left through the school where Chapmanhost was an administrator. Now, they had infiltrated his home. The odds that one or more of the bandits were subordinates of Chapmanhost or perhaps students themselves rose significantly. Alternatively, if less likely, the common thread could be the other Chapmanhost, in which case the bandits were likely staff of the hospital. Both groups would be given priority.

A thrum went through the tendril of the brain. Mocking, no… chiding. The Andalite was considering something that Esplin had perhaps missed. He teased his body among the wrinkles and crannies, ever so slightly pushing Alloran’s own vanity and pride to the fore. Something was missing, a third place…

 _The morphs_. The tiger, the large grey nosetail and the primate were not native to this part of the world. The one that had been brought for him to acquire had come from a local animal menagerie. He made a note to inquire as to the specific location and facility and then add it to the priority of places to consider. No, it was more valuable than that; it needed to be considered a Phase I priority for infestation; within ten cycles he wanted all key operational staff under his influence, if not control.

He paused, left his chambers only to inform the guard outside of this new priority and to see its implementation at once. He would have a roster of the critical humans at the facility within a day as well as any Yeerks already among the staff. A job like this, he would need one of his own in charge of it. Perhaps Sarel 703 was ready for a task of this significance. It would be a respectable promotion at any rate, should he prove capable of keeping it.

The terminal beeped. The data had recompiled according to his new specifications. He tapped a rear hoof at a fair clip, an old habit of Alloran’s when impatient that had bled into his own self.

The list was much smaller now. Still not entirely manageable, but he could see now that this would work.

The smaller tiger had shown up again the next night when Iniss 226 had been briefed again and now he knew for sure. This animal had never intruded before, and now it was showing up two nights in a row, right after the bandits – the humans, he was now referring to them in confidence – were granted access to the morph capable Z-conduits.

Tonight then, he thought delicately, would be the first step in the new plan. A multipronged approach to bring the bandits into his control.

First, the bandit needed to be captured. Second, the bandit needed to escape. It needed to do so despite likely lacking any training or ability to do so, and it needed to do so in a way that showed criminal incompetence in a Yeerk loyal to Visser One.

Iniss 226 had almost bungled the entire operation. First, he had taken an inordinate amount of time to capture the bandit even while it was in a morph a fraction of the Chapmanhost’s size. Then, as seen through the lens that Esplin ordered him to carry such that the bandit never left his own sight, the fool had distressed the daughter. Alloran laughed at his fury. What was the _point_ of an invasion by stealth, let alone the specific instance of compromise, if Iniss couldn’t maintain a basic sense of cover. At least the arrival of a second cat removed any remaining doubts – little thought they were. But it did make clear that Iniss’ talents – and tonight’s foolishness aside those talents existed in spades – were not ideally suited for the position of his current host.

Eventually the Chapmanhost left for his rendezvous with another Host, this one an infiltrator left behind by Visser One but one completely plausible as chosen for the task of taking the bandit from the Innis 226 and holding it in quarantine until Visser Three could arrive. The chief of police in the Chapmanhost’s city. The Chapmanhost was well known in the community, and showing up at the chief of police was not something that would arouse suspicion. Nor did it tonight, as Visser Three watched on his holoscreen as the small tiger was transferred to the other host, much more believable cover talk taking place for a few minutes before Iniss 226 left and returned to the Chapmanhost home.

He was expected in thirty-six of Earth’s minutes. He arrived to find the front ingress of the home demolished, the host unconscious (another sign of human not Andalite activity, not that he had any more doubts), and the bandits vanished.

The next day was sweeter than dew ripened grass. Komriss 529 was removed from the chief of police and replaced with a much more loyal subordinate. Ah, if only he could have killed Komriss 529, but better Visser One if – no, when – she heard the news, interpreted it as a salvageable mission not a lost agent entirely. It was also a necessary one, should Komriss 529 seek his bluff if he overplayed his hands. Host bodies were a delicate matter in Yeerkish culture, new though it may be. Even in disgrace, a Yeerk could not be forced to give up a host body by order. The host as an extension of self was one of the few sacred concepts to have survived the destruction of their world order by the meddlesome Andalites, and so while promotion may prefer a Yeerk to change to a more suitable host, direct commands to do so were forbidden by military leaders. He had wondered many times what he would have done, had Visser One been in a position to force him to relinquish his Andalite body. His blade twitched at the thought, though he could not have said whether he had forced it to or not.

But Komriss 529 had accepted the surrender of his host as an alternative to Kandrona starvation, and the chief of police, if not his subordinate hosts, answered to Visser Three. Such a position was far too important a task for a Yeerk who had not ever had a human host, but there were plenty of Yeerks loyal to him that were more than willing to treat a host as a tool rather than a part of the Yeerk himself. Temrash 252 was fanatically loyal to the Visser and had made a name for himself in what was otherwise a fairly low ranking host, through his efforts with The Sharing. The promotion was nothing to raise suspicions, and the adolescent male Temrash 252 had previously controlled could be given to whatever Yeerk was next in line to receive a generic human host.

One adolescent human though was _not_ so generic as to be delegated to the Yeerk codes that governed general matters. For this, only one of his own Yeerks would do, one born in the tiny pool on board his own Blade Ship. A young spawnling yes, for this mission was not particularly likely to yield Kandrona, but one of great promise, give the spawnling a chance to test itself passing as a host. One that could be discrete and would go above and beyond… but not one to take initiative beyond the parameters set. Konda 1088 would do perfectly.

Its – her, now – mission was as simple as it was complex. Maintain perfect cover as a human adolescent girl. Make no contact with Yeerk forces outside a direct contact module with the Visser himself, and even then only when a priority one protocol. Nobody, not even other hosts, _especially_ not other hosts, could suspect for a minute that her host was a host at all.

He had not suspected much from Konda 1088 in this capacity if he were honest with himself. So it was a shock, so much that it caused Alloran himself to reemerge in full for a fraction of a second, when within the first cycle of a very meticulously planned infestation did he receive an emergency broadcast. He was fully prepared to discipline his spawnling when he read the transmission.

_Letter received today from anonymous sender. “Your father loves you.” Received at host’s gymnastics class._

The terminal beeped almost immediately when the new data was added. When cross-referenced against all known data, the highest probability tier of bandits crashed from several thousand names to a mere fourteen.

The third name down caught his attention for its familiarity. Fascinating. One of the likely bandits shared a name with Temrash 252’s old host. One of the hosts that had been released during the attack.

Rachel Berenson.

In a flash, he checked the records to which Yeerk would be receiving the current Berensonhost at the next cycle. A Yeerk not particularly aligned to himself or his rival one way or the other. A nonentity. His mind whirred, contemplating the risks and rewards of being seen to interfere in such a trivial matter. Alloran calculated right beside him.

Best to leave it alone for now, all told. And anyway, there were thirteen other potential hosts to consider as well. That left a new question to figure out, a question he had not dared to allow himself to ponder while the trail was still so wide and dangerous.

If there were morph capable humans for the taking, possibly with an _Escrafil_ _Device_ among them too… who did it best serve him to grant the spoils. Being the only morph capable Yeerk had been an important part of his power and mystique. If he was to now lose that, it had better be for good cause.

He pondered deep into the night, as Rachel Berenson slept the peaceful warmth of a job well done and Melissa Chapman now only cried out in the confines of her own head.

* * *

**Chapter 3**

* * *

Yeerks are by their nature a paranoid species. They have to be. From the moment they are born out of the remains of their three parents, they are in a sea of older Yeerks, each fending for themselves with only a trace of instincts and communal poolfeel passed on from their ancestor. Of course, even here they are immediately competing with hundreds of sibling spawnlings, and in some cases – such as that of Esplin 9466, they have a twin, a fellow spawnling who goes through a second cycle of subdivision. It is a traumatic experience, to be fighting for survival in the pool, seeking out the ideal Kandrona currents so as to ensure development beyond a mere Drone; and balancing the safety of the poolmud and the depths with the more dangerous – but more rewarding when the odd Gedd falls in – pool banks, exposed as a Yeerk then is to all sorts of dangers.

Of course, even when the Gedd falls into the Pool from time to time that is only part of it, luck and skill battle for dominance as the pool roils, the news of this moment passed through radioactive bursts and touchthought and pheromones that make up the primitive native Yeerk ‘language’. Only one Yeerk wins the prize. And more often than not, three days later loses it.

Before the Andalites came, a tiny culture existed between Yeerk controlled Gedds, made up of those Yeerks clever enough to use their small time in the host to construct their own private pools, and come up with a way to detain the Gedd while they swam blind next to a struggling if stupid host. It is not enough to seek to put the host to sleep – the effects on the Yeerk itself while inside the host are to this day not clearly understood, but it is understood that on some level, a Yeerk is one being with its host while it occupies the host, and a host killed will kill the Yeerk, in most cases. Likewise, a sleeping host will cause the Yeerk, too, to be rendered comatose.

Slowly – painfully slowly, generations and centuries and millenia slowly – those Yeerks that had thought long enough to maintain some long term use of their Gedd had banded together, putting evolutionary paranoia aside and developing a crude civilization. A simple spoken language with a complementary form of crude, written pictograms that the Gedd body could just about manage to draw with enough accuracy to be useful. Iron tools were rare and lacked fine precision, but did exist as luxuries for the highest caste. Shelter from the elements, and then too mutual protection and subjugation of hosts. Eventually, they even captured Gedd, although this was limited by the distance a Geddhost could go and ensure a return to the pool within three days. Free Gedd had no such handicap. Laws and customs of a sorts had been developed, a mutual recognition of the sanctity of the claims to a given host, and a government cum religious mythos centered around the Council of Thirteen, so named for the Thirteen Yeerk pools along the equatorial crater lakes where the Yeerk population of the planet was concentrated, and thus whence both central control and mysticism must ultimately derive.

It cannot be understated how culturally transforming and politically revolutionary the act was for Yeerks to put aside their paranoia long enough to successfully overpower their intergalactic saviors and successfully steal ships and make for the vastness of space. It would have taken but one Yeerk to seek advantage like the countless blind and dumb Poolbound would have done in a pulse, but the conspiracy had held strong and now, Esplin 9466 and his brethren were a feared scourge across much of the galaxy.

But that paranoia cut deep and did not go away. If anything, success gave it a place to take root and blossom every more poignantly than before. The Council of Thirteen embraced it and sought to use it for their advantage – the Yeerk hierarchy was centralized and perfectly linear. There were no comrades or compatriots, only superior and inferior. Visser One above Visser Two, Visser above subVisser, and so forth. A Visser had no power to promote within the greater Yeerk hierarchy, and only limited power to steer his own clients towards better, more powerful hosts.

On Taxxon, this had not mattered so much. Nor had it been an issue on Hork Bajir, beyond the obvious benefits of a stronger Hork Bajir over a frailer one, insofar as a frail Hork Bajir exited. But with humans, their internal hierarchies were complex and numerous, and their numbers vast. Their occupations and skills varied. Here, it mattered.

Which in conclusion: He needed the host bodies of the Andalite and Human bandits, but he also needed to ensure that they went to Yeerks who were unquestionably loyal. Those like Komriss 529 to whom he was a godking in his own right, second (and even then only officially) to the Emperor. Even there of course free will could medal with affairs in time, and so even among his own Bladepool spawnlings, planning was advisable.

He paced the deck of his private quarters, stalk eyes forever scanning the room by force of habit, his main eyes wrinkled at the edges slightly in deep concentration. He was fairly certain that Rachel Berenson was one of the humans within the bandits, which meant infesting her at current was off limits. If it were possible to accomplish this task such that the bandits remove his own enemies, then they would have to be free to do so. If there was any chance that word could come out that Yeerks under his command had been operating against the invasion, he would be branded a Traitor. There would be no way around that, this would not be overlooked as the inevitable jockeying of power among the generals.

That did not mean the bandits couldn’t be influenced or directed, but obliquely. A tool to be aimed at his enemies and when the time was ripe, he would swoop in and take all the credit, netting himself a fine collection of hosts for his most loyal lieutenants.

He clopped a hoof on the ground – he was dithering. He stretched his body as wide as he could, pouring himself into every cranny of the brain. Time to focus. Alloran was being stubborn right now, but he could wait. For now, he needed more than the surface reconnaissance could provide. He needed to investigate Rachel Berenson personally, and thankfully he was the only Yeerk (for now!) with the morphing technology. A plan began to form. The Berenson family consisted of a mother, who was a district attorney in the target area – a position of some import. And three daughters, one of immediate interest.

He explained his interests to his subordinates very clearly. First point: if The Sharing was the approach he was forced to take, then they would do so as aggressively as orders permitted. Which, in the event of any issue unforeseen in the human community – especially in light of the bandits – meant a higher priority for the human legal institutions.

Second point: he himself would need to acquire a human morph in such a capacity such that, from time to time, he could interlude in such matters personally if need be.

Third point: the target of such a morph would have to come from his own pool and not the general Yeerk population on the planet, as said Yeerk would be reporting to him directly and if need be, remaining out of sight during a morph switch.

Fourth point: he had a suitable candidate in mind, and he expected the human and her immediate staff to be infested within 72 hours.

Fifth point: the target host must absolutely never be given the chance to revolt against her Yeerk. Both her position within the human society as well as her cover for the Visser’s own morph meant her position must be unimpeachable. As such, the Yeerk selected was given permission – no, an order – to communicate to the host that compliance would guarantee the non-infestation of her three daughters.

Sixth point: to drive the point home, the families of her staff should be taken as well, so as to show the tail had a blade.

The operation went cleanly two days later. A human security firm taken over by the Yeerks at the beginning of the invasion isolated the office, indicating that a bomb threat had been made against the district attorney office. Separated for questioning, the unsuspecting staff had been silenced and infested. No alarm was raised. At the end of the day, all the new hosts returned home as usual, save for small canisters filled with the requisite numbers of Yeerks needed to infest their families that night as they slept.

Except one. The Yeerk controlling the Berensonhost called its – her - eldest daughter. A case was running late, go ahead and order a pizza. Put your sisters to bed honey. I love you.

The Berensonhost bowed deeply in the presence of Visser Three, eyelids fluttering as he placed a seven-fingered hand on the top of her head and acquired her genetic pattern.

The next day, he morphed the Berensonhost. The actual Berensonhost was at the office, her children at school. Just to be sure, he waited for Iniss 226 to confirm the eldest was there before driving to the Berenson house in morph. Officially, he was examining the residence so that he might be familiar with it when he took on the role.

Unofficially, he searched the daughter’s room for suspicious activity. The bandits, say what you will about them, at least had the sense to not be so obvious, the foolishly sentimental letter the younger Chapmanhost had found notwithstanding. There was nothing to catch his attention.

Annoying, but not unexpected. No matter, he bugged the room anyway for sight and sound. A precious Gleet Biofilter, from his own private security system, was installed. It was disarmed of course, but it would keep a log of all genetic sequences that came within a wide cone in the center of the room. The filter itself was the size of one the human thumbnails and as thin as well, attached to the underside of the wooden desk in the room’s corner.

Job done, he gave the home a final look around. He probed Alloran, checking as subtly as he could if there was any sense from the Andalite that he had missed something. Finding nothing, he left. It was important that through all of this, he remember that he did ultimately have a wider war to run.

And it would seem, he was the only one not seeking to run it to ruin. Fury coursed throughout him, fury matched by Alloran’s mockery as well as mutual distaste for catastrophic incompetence. _Thankfully_ – as the logistics drop ship never landed on Earth it was not part of his command, but that of Visser Eleven, who was responsible for all orbital and atmospheric noncombat ships, as well as the small local industrial node that had been established on the far side of Jupiter. Though he could only imagine just how such a thing was possible, the Bandits had somehow destroyed a ship that had been transporting He3 to a Yeerk depot in mountains, and returning with fresh water. He shuddered – both of him – to imagine what would have happened had the bandits destroyed the ship while its energy canister cargo had still been onboard.

It was bad enough as was; the loss of the water shipment was not such a great loss, although it would make life mildly inconvenient for the Yeerks and hosts operating further out in this system. But a shutdown in Helium3 could threaten the Kandrona itself, which would be catastrophic. As it was, he had already been sent word that the attack had reached the ears of Visser One, who was now on her way personally to observe the current status of the way.

Anger coursed through him, with an intensity that was not entirely his own. Yes, Alloran despised superiors who criticized from afar. Few things could he count on Alloran’s full support, but discrediting Visser One to the point of her painful humiliation and death was among them.

He stoked the anger, letting images of his own desires for revenge play in Alloran’s mind, blurred with images from Alloran’s own past. How both of them had been betrayed by foolish idealists on Hork Bajir. How if either of them had had their way on that world, the battle would not have been the slaughterhouse it had become. Two separate memories of comrades lost because of fool on high and fools below. Two sep-

Though the Yeerks did not have thoughtspeak, they technology most of their work had been cribbed off of, did. An alarm went out that only went off inside Esplin 9466’s Andalite head.

He all but galloped in the confined space of his quarters to the computer terminal. The Gleet Biofilter had picked up a DNA structure that was both nonhuman and of a size so as unlikely to be one of the insects that the humans tolerated in their homes. The sequence of the intruder revealed itself, but he was not a xenobiologist; the sequences themselves meant nothing to him.

The video feedback that he pulled up, very much _did_. There was a human female, of a medium height for her appropriate age and sex with yellow hair. That was Rachel Berenson. She was nodding, but not speaking. The target of her nonverbal communication was the subject of the Biofilter’s notification. In the center of the room clutching onto the rail of the human sleeping space was a very familiar redbrown avian. The same creature that beyond all impossibilities had taken out a half dozen Taxxon as well as the drop ship.

And unless he missed his guess, he was now confident beyond any doubt that Rachel Barenson was a bandit. And just as sure, the hawk was no hawk at all, but one of the two unaccounted for Andalite pilots, now a guerilla Prince leading human arisths.

That night, he dreamt of an Andalite trapped… somewhere. Somewhere deep. _Help me._

* * *

**Chapter 4**

* * *

He knew what it was at once, a distress amplifier from the Dome. Frustratingly, whoever was sending the message was not broadcasting their location. Had the beacon been damaged in the Dome’s crash into the planet’s ocean? Possible… but unlikely. If the Dome itself was still intact – and it was designed to take significant damage, after all – then the likelihood was that at least some of the redundant systems had come through well enough to work. Frustration flooded his neurons – just like it to be a fool down below too incompetent to ease in his own capture. Or, he grudgingly admitted when Alloran pointed out the possibility, someone with a sense of caution.

If he had heard it, the two(?) Andalites among the bandits would likely have heard it as well.

He thought long and hard with both minds, and in the end concluded it was best to simply let it play out as it may. Any Andalite left on the Dome itself during the battle that had taken place would be _arisths_ , and while an Andalite host of any sort was nothing to close stalkeyes at, the ability to track down the Dome with the resources that his forces had available on this planet were better spent elsewhere. One Andalite child living or dying beneath the ocean would make no difference in the end.

Still, _something_ could be done with the information. A message sent to Visser One, and copied to the Council’s Archive, stating his strong belief that after rigorous searching the Andalite Dome had not be found, and a request for a dedicated survey ship to search the planet. A vague note about the possibility of some Andalites still possibly being alive on board should it have survived. He sent the transmission; likely nothing would come of it. Certainly, there was no chance of such a valuable ship being commandeered from another sector and sent to Earth, but at least the groundwork was set should this prove to be a greater thorn in the hoof than anticipated, his rival could not claim he had not foreseen the issue nor treated it with due diligence.

In the meantime, the noose among the bandits was tightening. After some thought, he had concluded that all the Yeerks dedicated to the mission must form their own node, in addition to coming from his own Pool. As such, a private dedicated pool site must be provisioned for, such that there would be no risk of the Chapmanhost being aware his daughter was now a host as well. Even Iniss did not know. He could arrange her pool schedule simple enough, but – hosts talked. Oh, the Yeerks did everything they could to prevent their hosts exchanging information and it hardly mattered in terms of warning the outside world, but this was not the time for such risks. And he could not risk the Chapman daughter for instance, warning the Berensonhost that his word to let children remain free if their parents complied was not so solid a promise as indicated.

Both Yeerks had been provided a handful of single use portable Kandronas from the Visser’s own supply, but such were always in short supply among the Empire and this was not a scalable solution. A subbasement added to the local human book leasing and archive on the other hand, was. Officially, this space was for the Visser’s own use as his base of operations in the area. The local archivists – librarians to the humans – were not particularly influential or of great status despite their control of what passed as information among this species. None currently were infested at any rate; within a week, the opposite was true. Unlike before however, these Yeerks did not come form his own private pool. It would not do to make this place too interesting for anyone reporting elsewhere. Low ranking Yeerks from the common pool, barely a step above being drones themselves were used. A handful of trusted guards _were_ put on rotation, but they were old hosts, nothing interfering with the general operations and fully expected to be present at a Visser’s local headquarters. Nobody of any additional interest. And if occasionally a host not only came down to report but also _used_ the facility, well… nobody above would be the wiser.

The young Chapmanhost was increasingly appearing a dead end after her single moment of intelligence gathering glory, but that was acceptable for the time being. She was a sleeper to be activated if and when. She was instructed to slowly resume the child’s life as it had been prior to the capture of her parents, with instructions to not promote or engage in general Yeerk recruitment, least of all the Sharing. Perhaps something would germinate in time, especially if she rekindled her relationship with the Rachel bandit.

The Berensonhost by contrast proved to be a gem, and even had her daughter not been a bandit she was a useful avenue of attack for the Yeerk invasion, far more so than the average Sharing applicant. Her time was almost entirely productive, either as unknowingly gathering intelligence on the Rachel bandit or creating opportunities for the greater invasion through her legal connections.

He had ordered the Berensonhost for a list of all communications via the household telephone system, officially as a means of understanding the regular relationships Berensonhost had should he be in morph, and some interesting patterns had shown up in the results. The Rachel bandit had made a spike in calls to the home of the _other_ Berensonhost, as well as family living on the edge of town who had a daughter of the same age. The calls to her fellow pool spawnl- her cousin, were not a concern. It was an interesting coincidence, but Temrash 252 was an observant Yeerk and loyal, and had never reported anything odd about the younger brother of his host prior to his promotion to the chief of police. Nor had the… he paused, it was irritating to think in human terms, but needs must. The _Tom_ Berensonhost’s new Yeerk. The friend, on the other hand, was a significant increase in communication. Even _more_ alarming, the girl’s parents both worked around a wide variety of animals. In the mother’s case, at the very menagerie he had acquired his own tiger morph, and likely the bandit had as well. Perhaps the tiger had been the girl herself.

His stalk eyes read the name on the terminal. Cassie Leigh. Almost certainly his second bandit, but, it was possible, that the parents were actively involved in the resistance as well and may even be aware of their daughter’s status. As such, infesting them outright was to be avoided for the time being, lest the plan unravel. Esplin oozed into Alloran’s logic centers, fusing his own brain with the greater one and checking his own decision cycle again and again.

Given the variety of dangerous animals the bandits had acquired in a short time, it was almost certain the mother was at least aware of what was going on. The mother and daughter may be acting without the knowledge of the father, who’s position did not make him a necessary addition to the bandit’s mission… but humans did not think like Yeerks nor Andalites, nor were they even military members of any human army. The concept of ‘need to know’ was likely not as precious to them as was the need to maintain familial harmony.

And yet… the bandits had one, possibly two Andalites among them who might have impressed upon them the need for such things. Here at last was an indecision as to which way to play the plan. To infest the father, or not? 

It would unfortunately have to wait – Visser One was arriving within days and as usual balancing his own plans had to be weighed with doing his duty to the greater glory of Empire.

Of course, the day she arrived the bandits would suffer another _outstanding_ bout of incompetence. They were likely all children, human at that, and so he should have expected something like this. But the Andalites among them were trained warriors – he was tempted to flay them alive when they were captured for the sheer nuisance of their foolishness. Was his entire plan to come to an end because the bandits insisted on being captured!?

In the mountains not too far from the Sight Zero of the invasion, a distress signal had just come been picked up by the Blade Ship, where he was preparing for his guest’s arrival. An out-of-date distress signal. A distress signal that couldn’t have been more an invitation for an ambush had it tried. For a moment, he wondered if it was a deliberate ruse, if the bandits had somehow known that Visser One was coming and were simply seeking to cause a confrontation.

Nothing to be done for it. Visser One’s own Blade Ship was in the system too – if he failed to act, it would be too suspicious. Damnably so. He couldn’t possibly not. He lashed out with his tail in fury, but there was nothing for it. A bug fighter was dispatched to the coordinates, as well as two transports of troops with instructions not to reveal themselves until the bandits attacked, and to take them alive if at all possible. He would at least have the ability to show Visser One that he had taken care of the bandits, and despite the higher rank this was still his operation and his ship – he would be able to ensure at least half the bandits were taken for his own troops, even if Visser One cheated him out of the other half. He felt the muscles in his tail pulse and he moved back, removing himself from Alloran’s own emotional cortex so that at least his own emotions remained his own, for now.

He would take the Rachel bandit, as well as one of the Andalites. That would tie up any loose ends of his own conspiracy, which would die stillborn but unnoticed. It bit, the sheer stupidity of it. And he fought to keep his tone smug and even openly cheerful if viciously so when the signal returned that the Andalite Bandits were secure and inbound.

They came on board the same time as Visser One, though on opposite ends of the ship. Best at least to make a presentation of it. The morphs were similar to the first time, although the horse was gone, replaced with a large canine. But otherwise, the tiger and elephant and gorilla were present, as was the Andalite who had visited the Rachel bandit as an avian.

Curiously, reports were that one of the Andalites had been captured out of morph, and the accompanying video answered the question as to whether the bandits had successfully found the Dome and organized a rescue party. Given the obvious immaturity of the unmorphed Andalite, they obviously had. Did the _aristh_ even have the morphing technology? Alloran had long wondered what changes to Andalite policy had occurred following his capture. Perhaps it did not have the ability – perhaps that is why an _Escrafil Device_ was brought on board a ship in a foreign system in the first place.

He made a great show of gloating for the benefit of Visser One of course, and felt some genuine amusement when the bandit disguised as the gorilla fell over at the sight of Visser One. That one too, must be a genuine Andalite to recognize her, perhaps he had fought against her before. The bird and the unmorphed _aristh_ accounted for the genuine Andalites in the group then. The tiger, elephant, and canine represented the humans. One of which was certainly the Rachel Berenson, another was probably the Cassie Leigh, and the other the last mystery among the group.

Well, it would be a mystery for another hour or so at most. A shame, in its own way. He would have to look for a new way to break his shackles on this planet, but for now he had to play the role of a servant of Empire, and show his superior to the bridge.

It was almost enough to make him admire Visser One. Oh, it was a stain on his record, the thrice-damned _sfelink_ hadn’t batted an eye even when her own troops were so obviously guilty. He had even been blamed for the sudden failure of the communication and surveillance systems right before his guards were mysteriously attacked and the Andalite bandits released. The injustice rankled on principle, but now, in a weird and twisted way, Visser One had through her own machinations undone the Andalite foolishness.

The Bandits had “escaped”, and while he was to take the blame, he was certain he could smudge the story enough such that beyond the loss of prestige, no actual demotion or charges would be forthcoming. Visser One wouldn’t call for any investigation too rigorously lest her obvious role be uncovered – for her it would be enough for her that he looked incompetent in front of a superior and still had a guerilla force on the planet.

But oh how she had doomed herself in doing so, even if she did not yet know it! All would be his now, so long as he could keep the bandits from slicing their own necks!

He felt rejuvenated, energized. He would have his revenge. He would have it all. Audacity, that was the trick!

* * *

The next morning, as Walter Leigh was opening his veterinarian practice in the city, a truck-trailer pulled into the parking lot carrying a large horse. The driver jumped out and began begging for help, and the horse let out a great whinny of agony. Needing to open but unable to resist as least giving the wounded animal a look over, he agreed to go into the horse trailer and see if anything was immediately apparently wrong. As soon as he was inside, the driver pulled out a strange looking gun and shot him. No sound came out, and he felt no pain. Only paralysis.

Then the horse transformed. Its fur turned blue, darker at the haunches and chest but all of its fur nonetheless unmistakenly blue. He watched in horror as its mouth melted away, and then two stalks bulged and twisted out of its head, from which eyes sprouted. He tried to scream, he tried to run. Nothing happened. A giant scorpion-like tail grew from the thing’s rump.

Barely, _barely_ , he could twist his own neck. Like moving through syrup. His assailant bowed to the monster. Called it a name. Then the thing somehow spoke inside his own head. He tried to twist, he was going to die.

He wasn’t. Much worse was in store. The man gave the monster a silvery looking cylinder, a little under a foot long. The monster’s too many fingered hands unsealed it, and pulled out a slug, but a slug the size of a rat. He screamed again, accomplishing nothing more than a wheeze.

And then the slug was pressed against his ear, wet and slimy and dear God it was crawling into his head. Agony, as the thing crawled deeper inside the canal and then he couldn’t feel it any longer and yet, he could. It will be over soon, human. Do not resist. _What?_

His eyes by themselves looked up at the monster, and the monster looked back. Then it gave a tiny nod. His captor pulled out a needed, and gave him a shot in the arm, almost instantly he felt the numbness leaving his body, but even so he felt detached, like he was still just watching himself sitting there.

The Dracon Beam stun lasts much longer naturally, but there is no use keeping the cattle immobilized for longer than need be. _Dracon Beam? Cattle?_

His mouth moved by itself. May the Kandrona strengthen you my Visser, Entrus 910 thanks you for this host. This host knows nothing of its conquest.

The monster nodded. It then began to turn into a human as well, which in its own way was even more horrifying than watching a monster erupt from a horse. Without another word, the monster grabbed a pile of folded clothes from the corner of the trailer and minutes later got into the passenger seat and was driven off. Walter Leigh watched from inside his own head as his body turned back around and went inside.


End file.
